Love your best friend
by PinkPunk010
Summary: AU: When did she stop depending on him, and start loving him? Harry Sullivan was the one person she could depend upon. And Sarah-Jane Smith was always the one woman he would do anything for. Shamelessly AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I just watched Terror of the Zygons. Now, being from a military family myself, I know that the black and gold getup that Harry was in were Navy ones. I thought it ever so unfair that he has to run around in his smartest parade uniform while UNIT are in their combat gear! Poor Harry. I also had a bit of an issue with how they didn't even say goodbye to Harry when they left him in Scotland S-J and the Doctor knew that they would never end up in London! **

**Anyway, moan over. I had a nap today when I got back from my lectures, one of the biggest mistakes ever because it is now really late and I am really not tired!**

**This Is completely and proudly AU. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dr Who. That courtesy goes to the BBC. **

…..

He isn't sure when they stopped being best friends. Not while travelling with the Doctor at least. Those few days, no sleep, in the same clothes, being buffeted from planets to spaceships via somewhere else just to get back to the TARDIS were far too rushed for anything other than an everlasting friendship to form. It's like being in a warzone, your comrades become closer to you than anything in civilian life. It's a shared experience. Only they know what you feel about being in x situation or y high stress emotional state. You depend upon them in the instance to have your back and to get you out if necessary.

And that's how it felt with Sarah. She was his comrade, his brother in arms. She got his out of mischief, and she got him into scrapes too. You can't travel in the TARDIS and not know that, no matter what, that person will be there for you if you call.

So she called. It was several months after he had stood, splendid in his Navy Uniform, with the Doctor saying that he could hop back to London and offering a lift. Harry had thought she wouldn't go for the briefest second but he knew that Sarah would always go looking for trouble. He didn't envy her, he just hoped, when she did decide that the TARDIS life was no longer for her, that the Doctor would drop her back in a time where he, and Benton, and Lethbridge-Stewart could watch out for her.

And he dropped her off in Aberdeen, with no money and a box full of possessions. With her last pence in the bottom of a coat, she had called him and asked if he could see about getting someone to pick her up.

Harry had gone to the Brigadier, told him what had happened and requested immediate leave and use of a vehicle. The Brigadier had agreed instantly. Good chap.

Sarah had made friends with a local landlady while she was in Aberdeen so had been well looked after by the time Harry had pulled up, very late at night. Sarah had still been awake, waiting for him (time travel did give one the most dreadful jet lag) and he could see her shoulders sag in relief when he arrived. They had both slept very well, Harry settling the bill (despite Sarah's insistence of course) and started on the long old journey back to London. Sarah told him of adventures she'd had, of creatures she had faced that he once wouldn't have been able to imagine, of the people she had met. Around Sheffield, she had stopped talking, just staring quietly out the window at the changing landscape. Harry hadn't pushed her, Sarah never did respond well to that.

"Why didn't he check?" She said quietly, some agonisingly quiet miles later. "Why did he just leave me there?"

"I don't know Sarah," Harry had sighed, reaching across to put one of his hands on hers, folded in her lap as they were. He pulled back to drive. "Why did you want to come home?"

"I didn't," she said quietly, turning her face so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. She didn't say anything until they arrived at UNIT. And then she went back to a more withdrawn and quiet version of her own self. She joked with the Brigadier half heartedly, and chuckled at something Benton said about Harry's driving.

Harry was given leave for the rest of the week. Sarah had worried the Brigadier exceedingly, and Harry knew that he would be having a few words with the Doctor right about now if he could.

She never gave up of course, good old Sarah. Kept waiting for him to arrive, to insist that they go running away to amazing worlds in that blue box of his. She depended on Harry to help her adjust to having to work, to pay bills, to having to cook and shop and socialise again.

Maybe that was when it changed. When she found 'Old girl' an endearment instead of threatening to spit in his face or something.

…..

"Hallo Miss Smith," Harry smiled charmingly, as he usually did upon opening the door to see Sarah's formidable aunt. Since her return from the States, Lavinia had once again taken up residence in the Smith household, and Sarah, was in fact the guest. Harry had decided to not try to make friends with the (quite frankly terrifying) woman. "Is Sarah in?"

He felt a little bit like a schoolboy again, running into the village to see his friends.

"Coming Harry!" Sarah had cried out, struggling to put a coat on and hang onto her bag at the same time. She threw him her hat for a second, succeeding in slipping both arms into the cream contraption she was attempting to wear. He chuckled at her, shaking his head affectionately.

"You alright there old girl?" he teased with a light laugh, leaning against the doorframe. She shot him a winning smile and laughed, stretching up to kiss her aunt's bony cheek before stooping to pick up a small suitcase.

"I am quite fine thank you Harry," She had practically sang, handing him her suitcase in exchange for the hat that she crammed onto her head. "Goodbye Aunt Lavina, I shall see you on Sunday."

Lavinia harrumphed, watching her niece with narrowed eyes. She didn't believe for a second that there was 'nothing going on' in that unusual relationship. Sarah was all for independence, and solidarity, and she didn't bat an eyelid to the handsome military doctor from calling her 'old girl'. Yes, something was definitely up.

Harry was escorting Sarah to a conference in London, a medical conference (which was why she had asked him to come too, he would be able to tell her what it all meant) that she had been asked to write an article on. She was doing well as a freelance journalist. Very well.

"I thought we might stop off for a bite to eat on the way," Harry smiled at her, "my treat of course."

"Oh, of course!" Sarah mimicked good naturedly. "But I feel I must protest, I do believe that it was upon my suggestion that we partake in this adventure in the first place."

"Oh, hardy har," Harry said, faux crossly. "I don't sound a thing like that!"

"I don't sound a thing like that!" Sarah mimicked with a laugh. "Of course you don't Harry dear, you just keep telling yourself that!"

…

_Bring Bring. _Harry hated whoever it was who needed him at this precise moment. It was hardly even four o'clock for heavens sake. He hoped they would just give up. But no. _Bring Bring. Bring Bring._

Groaning, Harry sat up, and lifted the receiver to his ear. "Hello?" he said groggily.

"_Harry?"_ Sarah said down the phone, she sounded like she had been crying. Harry instantly woke up a bit more, and began trying to locate his shoes and socks while keeping the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder.

"Sarah?" He asked. "What's up old thing?"

"_Aunt – Aunt Lavina has – has , oh Harry_," She broke down into hiccupping tears again.

"Where are you?" He said quickly, "I'll come and get you."

"_London Memorial Hospital," _She had sobbed. The fact she brokered no argument at all worried Harry greatly.

"Sarah," he said gently, "What's happened to your Aunt?"

"_She's had a heart attack,"_ Sarah hiccupped, "_Please Harry…"_

"I'm on my way old girl," He said in as soothing a manner as he could. "You hang on in there old girl. Ok? Wait outside the doors for me."

"_Ok Harry," _Sarah had said quietly_ "Thank you."_

"Don't need to thank me Sarah," He said seriously. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Then he had hung up, shoved a few clothes into a carrybag, had slipped a dressing gown on over his pajamas and left immediately. When he'd parked in the hospital carpark, he cast a glance toward the entrance. And when he realised that the tiny, huddled figure in a too big jumper and trousers was Sarah, his heart broke a little. Sarah and her Aunt may not have gotten on, but Lavina was all she had in the entire world.

"Oh Sarah," He said quietly, as he approached. She span round, emitting some sort of bark of relief and she launched herself into his arms and sobbed like he had never heard her sob before. And he swore that he would never hear her sob like that again.

"It's all my fault," she kept repeating into his shoulder, again and again. "Oh Harry, it's all my fault!"

"It's not your fault old girl," he said soothingly. "Why don't we go up to the ward, see how she's doing?"

Sarah shook her head against his shoulder and tightened her grip around his neck a little more.

"I argued with her Harry! Then she just sort of, clutched at her arm, and gagged and fell to the floor! I did it! I got her all riled up!" Sarah coughed out in snatches. "Please don't hate me! I couldn't bear losing you too."

"I don't hate you old girl," Harry said quietly, pulling Sarah's arms apart to look at her face. "I could never hate you! Especially for something that wasn't your fault. Your aunt loves a good argument more than even you do. And heart attacks are a ticking time bomb. Now you listen to me, Sarah-Jane Smith _It was not your fault_. Understand?"

Sarah hiccupped a little, and nodded slightly.

"Now, you hold it together old girl, ok?" Again she nodded, looking slightly calmer. So Harry took the risk in riling her up. "I've seen you do battle with all sorts of unimaginable creatures without batting an eyelid."

"But they're not family," she said in a broken voice. "Oh Harry, I won't have anyone! In the whole wide world it'll just be me. Alone."

"Now, you listen here old girl," Harry said sternly, guiding Sarah into the hospital "You will always have me. And you will always have the Brigadier, and Benton. No matter what. If one of us is alive, then you have family. You are family to us now old girl, and you are most definitely not getting rid of me any time soon!"

Sarah gave his a ghost of a watery smile and led him to were her Aunt was sleeping.

….

"Harry will be here in half an hour Aunt Lavinia," Sarah said brightly a few weeks later. Her aunt was weak, needed watching for most of the time and resented any implication that she needed any help.

"Oh?" She said acidly "And where are you two off too?"

"_I_ am going to the local planning office, there might be a story in that new factory they're building out by Ealing," Sarah said breezily, pretending not to notice that "Harry is making dinner for the three of us. Given how neither you or I can cook."

"Hmph," was Lavinia's only reply

When Harry had arrived and Sarah had gone, Lavinia indicated that Harry should take the seat next to her. He sat there, looking awkward, for a good few minutes as she scrutinised him.

"You'll look after her," she said eventually, with an air of absolute conviction. "She doesn't think she needs it, but you've been looking after both of us for a long old time now lad."

"Um, thank you? Miss Smith?" Harry said uncertainly, wondering what she was getting at.

"Now, you listen here lad," Lavinia said, as ferociously as she could (and even only operating on half her usual energy reserves, she was still pretty formidable) "I'm getting on. I reckon I've got another year, maybe two. Then I'll be joining my brother. Promise me that you'll look after Sarah?"

"You don't promise to look after Sarah," harry said with a slight affectionate smile. "Sarah agrees to let you look after her. And one day, I hope she'll agree."

"I just hope I'm still alive to see Sarah in her mother's white dress," Lavinia said pointedly. Harry spluttered and flailed a bit. "I have eyes lad. So don't you try to pull the wool over them."

…..

Harry had been acting strangely the last few days, Sarah thought. He still came over frequently, would call her if he couldn't make it, or offer to make dinner for her and Aunt Lavinia. But, he was just…off. He was distracted, like he was thinking about something else constantly, worrying over something. And sometimes, she had caught him staring at her, brow furrowed, before he'd blush a bit and glance away. She was worried about him. She had even phoned Benton, to ask if anything had happened at UNIT that would turn happy, jovial Harry into this solemn and reflective gentleman. Benton hadn't known anything.

So Sarah decided to ask him straight out. When he came over for dinner and after Lavinia had gone to bed.

"What's wrong?" She asked, handing him the usual glass of wine as she sat down on the armchair next to him on the sofa. "You've been acting odd for days. Anything I can help with?"

"Its nothing," Harry said quietly, avoiding looking at her.

"It most certainly is something," Sarah persisted "You've had me very worried! I even called Benton to ask what was wrong with you!"

That got Harry's attention. "What did he say?" He demanded anxiously.

"So it's something to do with UNIT then," Sarah concluded, frowning at him. "Harry, what's wrong!"

Harry looked torn.

"Please Harry," Sarah said quietly, knowing that he struggled turning down anything when she asked him nicely. And sure enough, Harry sighed, put his glass on the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees.

"I've been assigned to UNIT for three years now," he said softly, eyes trained on the table. "But officially I'm contracted with the navy."

"Yes," Sarah said, confused "I know."

"But you don't know that I have been issued new orders," harry said even quieter. Sarah was sure her heart stopped beating just for a second.

"What?" She breathed in shock. "You're _leaving_?"

"It would seem so old girl," Harry sighed. Still refusing to look over to Sarah.

"But, why?"

"They need me on one of the carriers. Well, they need a doctor anyway, not specifically me."

"But you can't leave!"

"I hate having to go old girl, but I haven't got a choice in the matter," Harry sighed, picking the glass up again and knocking the wine back in one. "I can't afford civilian life."

"Harry," Sarah said, in the softest whisper. Harry finally looked over, to see her sat bolt upright, eyes wide, fear in them. "Harry, you can't leave."

Harry reached across to pull Sarah's hand into his own.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he sighed "It's why I've been acting so off the last couple of days."

"How am I going to cope without you?" Sarah said in a voice Harry was barely able to hear.

"You'll be fine old girl. You coped before me didn't you?" Harry joked, all the while wondering how he was going to cope without seeing her.

Suddenly faced with the reality of losing him, Sarah realised just how much Harry Sullivan had worked her way into her life. He had a key to her house, the spare room was unofficially 'Harry's room', they did their shopping together, he would call in the middle of the day to talk to her. He was always there, and suddenly, the prospect of even a day without Harry seemed terrifying. Harry was her rock. She felt her heart break a little. And then, another realisation made itself quite clear. After all this time. She loved him! Even with his old fashioned, private schoolboy ways.

"If I asked you to stay?" Sarah turned to Harry, looking him straight in the eyes, pleading with him. She saw his eyes widen slightly.

"If I could," he said softly, raising a hand to her cheek. "I truly, _honestly_ would."

"We could have had a quiet practice in the country," Sarah joked weakly, tears in her eyes. Her raging feminist side hated the principle of giving everything up for one man, but her emotions were fiercely arguing back that it wasn't just any man, it was _Harry._

"You'd have hated it," he joked back. "You like the city too much."

"Small village near the city then," She compromised.

"Maybe one day," Harry seemed to be questioning her. When I leave the navy, he seemed to be promising, will you agree then?

"Yes," She agreed, a sad smile on her face, "Maybe one day."


	2. Chapter 2

He had been gone ten weeks, five days and seventeen hours when Sarah pulled up in the UNIT HQ to speak to the Brigadier. He had another twenty-nine weeks, one day and seven hours until his ship would be docked in Portsmouth and he would be on leave. To say she was counting down was an understatement.

"Hello Alistair," She said warmly, shaking the older gentleman's hand. "How have you been?"

"I've been very well Miss Smith, and yourself?" He enquired with a smile, indicating for her to take the seat opposite his desk.

Hmm, how had she been? Considering how no-one knew of her somewhat odd relationship with Harry, he must be expecting a generic answer.

"Oh, you know me," Sarah said lightly with a smile "I keep soldiering on."

"Hmm," The Brigadier didn't look convinced. He confirmed her suspicions when he followed this up with "How long has Sullivan been at sea?"

"Nearly eleven weeks," Sarah looked at her hands. She felt weak for missing him so much. They had letters, but even they were few and far between. "Only another thirty or so to go hey?"

"Yes, quite," The Brigadier appeared to be scrutinising her quite thoroughly. "I must remember to put in my letter to him that you appear to have not been eating properly."

Sarah's head snapped up defiantly. "I have too been eating!" she insisted "And why would you tell Harry such a thing?"

"Before he left, he asked that myself and Benton make sure you don't feel too out of the loop," the Brigadier smirked slightly. "You're not a wife you see, so he was afraid they wouldn't tell you anything."

"They don't," Sarah said hotly, slumping back in her chair.

"No, of course not. I however, am able to hear from him on a more regular basis than family. He's missing you too, keeps asking about you whenever I speak to him."

Sarah looked up suddenly, hope in her eyes. "I just want him to come home, where I know he is safe. I'm not used to him being the one in danger. Usually it's me."

"Now you know how he feels," The Brigadier smirked.

"Alistair," Sarah asked slowly. "How does one go about leaving the armed forces?"

"Well, I don't think you have to worry about that Miss Smith, by the end of this tour, our Doctor Sullivan will be able to afford his own quiet, not quite country practice."

Sarah blushed.

"I've been saving too," she admitted with a soft smile. "I just want to hear his voice again."

"Well," The Brigadier's smirk grew a little bit more. Sarah narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Do you fancy seeing a few of your old haunts while you're here? I believe Benton is in the lab talking to our new scientist. Nice chap, bit young though. Liz Shaw recommended him."

"What are you planning Alistair?" Sarah asked suspiciously. "I speak to Benton often enough."

"Yes, but I need to speak to Chesterton anyway about some analysis he's working on, Benton will be glad to see you."

And with that, he stood up, picked up his infernal cane and moved to open the door for Sarah. He raised his eyebrow at her pointedly. With a huff that let him know how she disliked being ordered around, Sarah stood up to follow.

She felt a wave of nostalgia for her time with the Doctor, for all the times she had spent, wandering these familiar corridors to the lab, for the times spent not understanding a word of what he was saying, for his opera coat being slung over the arm of a chair. For finding Harry tied up with a skipping rope in the cupboard just after the Doctor had regenerated into all hair and teeth and scarf.

She heard a bubble of voices from behind the door. The Brigadier knocked (just to be polite) and entered, holding the door for Sarah to enter.

John Benton was stood lounging against a desk, snapping to attention when he saw the Brigadier, chatting away to a handsome man Sarah didn't recognise with smart dark hair and a white lab jacket on. The stranger smiled widely at her, moving forward to shake her hand

"Hallo," he grinned in a friendly manner "You must be the infamous Miss Sarah-Jane Smith. Nice to meet you. I'm Ian Chesterton."

"Nice to meet you," Sarah said sincerely with a smile. "And what do you mean 'infamous'? Have the boys been talking about me?"

Ian laughed heartily. Sarah decided she liked him, he had a very direct and forthright personality.

"Yes, I rather suppose they have," He grinned "I hear you used to get into all sorts of scrapes, even when they left you doing the supposedly safe jobs."

"Well," Sarah pretended to huff. "I can look after myself! They didn't need to keep mollycoddling me."

"Well, forgive us for wanting to keep you fighting fit and causing quite the stir," A new voice that Sarah knew very well said, from somewhere to here right. Sarah turned around quickly, not quite believing it. He was on a ship, hundreds of miles away in the middle of the ocean. She had received a letter from him dated only a few days prior just this morning.

"Harry?" She asked in disbelief as he stood up from a chair in the corner, hands in the pockets of a white lab coat. He looked a bit sheepish.

"Hallo old girl," he said with a smile. Sarah laughed before striding forward, meeting him halfway in a hug. She didn't want to let go. She breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of Harry. "I've missed you." He whispered in her ear.

"And I've missed you," Sarah replied, giving him a tighter squeeze before letting go. She turned around to the Brigadier, with Harry keeping one arm firmly round her waist. "How did you manage this? I got a letter from him just this morning!"

"I told them I needed Harry specifically for a mission," The Brigadier smirked. "And I do need him, for a few days at least. But I could have made do with any medical professional, Harry having studied alien physiology was just a bonus. You two have three days before Harry needs to be going back to the ship."

Sarah pulled free from Harry to throw her arms around the Brigadier's neck. She planted a quick kiss of his cheek. "Thank you Alistair!" she grinned, before turning round to all the others. "That was a mean trick," She said, attempting to be stern but not quite managing It over the huge smile on her face.

"it was my idea," Harry said, attempting to save the others. He grinned. "It was either this or turn up at your house at six this morning. I didn't think you, miss I-dislike-waking-up or your aunt, would appreciate my ringing the doorbell at that time."

"I wouldn't have minded," Sarah said happily, threading her fingers through his. "Do you have to stay on site?"

"Nope," Harry grinned, "I've actually finished all the Brigadier wanted me to do. Shall we go and give your Aunt another heart attack?"

"Don't joke Harry!" Sarah swatted his arm. "She's missed you too."

"Well, she's probably missed my cooking if nothing else!" Harry joked.

"Cheeky," Sarah muttered.

A sharp cough made them remember everyone else in the room.

"Oh, sorry, were we making you feel uncomfortable," Sarah teased. Benton and Chesterton were sporting barely concealed grins while the Brigadier looked distinctly unimpressed.

"When you're next on leave Harry," Ian said, "You and Miss Smith should come over for dinner with me and my wife. We can exchange stories about the Doctor and his inability to drive his infernal ship."

"I will old chap, I get the feeling Sarah will like your wife very much," Harry grinned, shaking hands with the younger looking man. Sarah shook his hand as well, privately thinking that, so long as the woman wasn't a child obsessed housewife, yes, they probably would get on very well indeed.

"And Miss Smith," Ian turned to her "It was lovely meeting you. If you feel like you're short of company, Barbara and I would love to have you over for dinner. Get some proper food in you."

"Cheek!" Sarah grinned, giving Benton a kiss on the cheek and shaking Alistair's hand. "Well, see you in a few days."

"Bye!" The men chorused as Sarah and Harry left, hand in hand.

"So darling," Sarah said conversationally. "What exactly have you been telling poor Chesterton about me?"

**A/N I know that this is REALLY not how its done on ships – leave can be arranged, but I kinda wanted the Brig to have a hand in helping them along. I bet he's an old softie underneath all the bluster. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Skip forward a few months and Harry is retiring from the Navy. I am going to pretend that the ship is coming into harbour, but can't find a record of a specific ship entering refit at in 1978. And seeing as I don't think that Sarah-Jane would be ignorant of what ship Harry was on. I'm going to make it up. So anybody out there who knows the history of all HMS I do apologise.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Dr Who, all rights and recognisable characters go to the BBC**

…..

Sarah fiddled with the cuffs of her new pale pink dress, suddenly doubting as to whether or not its flamboyant, fashionable style suited her tiny frame. She was hardly supermodel material! Yet she had seen this outfit advertised, a pink shirt dress, so much less flamboyant than everything else in the shop with billowy sleeves ending in shirt cuffs. She had managed to dig a pretty, plain straw sunhat from her wardrobe and tied a similar coloured ribbon around it so the hat at least pretended to match the dress. And then she had on a new pair of low heels and had even splashed out on a new haircut and stockings.

When Sarah had been growing up, the emancipation marches and womens rights being batted around her home, she had sworn she would never dress to impress a man, she would only dress to impress herself.. Yet she was finding it very difficult to say that she wasn't dressing to impress Harry, just a little bit. She hadn't seen him in months, not since the Brigadier had managed to wrangle shore leave, and well… she wanted him to first see her again at her absolute best. It may have been vain, and it may have been girly, but Sarah had been exceedingly grateful to her vanity when she had arrived shoreside, picked up a flag and stated that she was Lieutenant Doctor Sullivan's fiancé (she wasn't but they didn't need to know that) and been urshed to stand next to the Officers Wives and families. All of the women were dressed to the nines. All of the men who had arrived to see brothers or sons or fathers were in smart suits with ties and shiny shoes. And they were all in groups!

Sarah wondered briefly if Harry's mother and father would be here. She hadn't been able to ask when the Brigadier had telephoned her to say that Harry's ship would be pulling into Portsmouth for refit on that Wednesday afternoon. She had ditched her story, shown Aunt Lavinia her dress and then driven down to a little B&amp;B that Alistair had been so thoughtful as to reserve for her. Sarah couldn't help but wish that they weren't. Yes, they hadn't seen their son in longer than Sarah had seen Harry, but she wanted Harry to herself, just for a little bit, before reluctantly letting him go and visit his family in Kent.

Sarah was so caught up in staring out at the port that she didn't notice that a woman, a little older than herself, had come to stand next to her, a baby in a carriage.

"You're new," the woman simply stated, joining Sarah in leaning against the railings. She was tall, and had permed blonde hair, wearing a light brown button down shirtdress.

"How can you tell?" Sarah laughed nervously, twisting the flag in her hands.

"Because you look like you don't quite believe that he is actually going to be coming back," The woman shielded her eyes against the sun to look out to the sea. "Newly-wed?"

"If you promise not to tell anyone," Sarah dropped her voice a little "We're not even engaged."

"I did that the first time Carl came back!" the woman laughed "He didn't know I was coming – thought he was meeting me in London the day after he had been officially given leave. I told them I was his fiancé, it explains why you aren't on the family list, and I stood over there, where the ramp pulls down, so he couldn't miss me when he disembarked."

Sarah smiled, grateful to the woman, because Harry didn't exactly know she was here. She offered a hand to the woman "Sarah-Jane," She said with a smile.

"Adelaide Brooke," She said with a smile. "This little one here is Lindsay. Wife to Lieutenant Carl Brooke, navigator. You?"

"Partner to Lieutenant Doctor Harry Sullivan," She chucked the baby's chin. "Your daughter is beautiful."

"It's the first time Carl is going to see her," Adelaide said sadly. "She's four months old, and he hasn't been able to see her…"

"Oh my!" Sarah said, eyes wide. "I feel awful…"

"Why?" Adelaide said gently "It's the life of the service wives. If you're serious about your Doctor, you'd better get used to standing here, with young children that won't recognise their daddy."

"I don't think I would be able to do it," Sarah admitted, "Having a child is terrifying enough, but with Harry out at sea, I don't think I could bear it! Harry is resigning the navy though. He wants a surgery, Ealing, we were thinking. Busy enough for me, not quite central London for him."

"I don't think Carl will leave, not for a long old time yet," Adelaide said wistfully "But I'd never ask him to. As he climbs the ranks, he'll get more shore jobs, and I'm happy to move where he needs me to."

"I have a friend," Sarah said slowly, "She's in love with a Brigadier in the army. He's such a great chap you know, looks upon me as quite a daughter, much to my irritation. He's in the process of getting a divorce because his wife couldn't deal with him being in the country and hardly even being seen by his family. She refused to uproot their daughter from Cornwall, he worked in the outskirts of London. But my friend, she would be like you, she'd follow him to the end of the earth, and she has, on more than one occasion. She knows what its like to be in Service. She worked as a consultant with his branch of the army. So did I. it's how I met Harry. He was their medic."

"Good sort?"

"Bit old fashioned," Sarah chuckled fondly "We clashed terribly when we first met. Then, overnight, became the best of friends. I don't take Old girl as quite the insult anymore! Should we move closer, do you think?"

Adelaide surveyed the group on the shoreside critically with a practised eye, then nodded slowly. "Yes, if we can be in that corner, we can be at the end of the receiving line, that's where the families are allowed to run forward."

"I think there sounds wonderful then," Sarah smiled. She suddenly felt so nervous. "How long do you think it will be till they arrive?"

"Once they appear through the harbour walls, it'll be fifteen minutes till they come alongside, then another fifteen before the officers disembark. Our hubbys should be some of the first officers off ship."

"Golly," Sarah said quietly. "I didn't expect to be quite so nervous about seeing him again! Oh I do wish it would hurry up!"

"I'm afraid that feeling never goes away," Adelaide said sadly "You just learn to hide it better. It's how I knew this was your first time. You were twitching like no tomorrow. I thought, that I would have appreciated someone to talk too my first time, so I came to talk to you."

"Thank you," Sarah said sincerely. The two casually came to a stop in a prime position for seeing the officers leave the ship and made idle chatter waiting for the ship to arrive.

…..

Coming into port for the last time on a cruise was always the best day. It was a day when you got to see your families again, where loved ones would cheer as you disembarked, and those lucky enough to have wives would rush forward and sweep them off their feet. It was also allowed for them to kiss said wives in public.

Harry had told the Brigadier that he would be coming into port soon – unspecified date and all that, hoping the old fellow would be able to find out and relay the information to Sarah. He hoped, rather than believed that she would be waiting on the shore for him.

His parents however, he knew would be there. He was dreading it. Yes, he loved his mother and father, but the first thing he wanted to do when he had been signed off (and they didn't know he had managed to save enough to leave the navy yet either) was to hot foot it to Croydon and to the Smith household. There, he would be able to pull Sarah into a hug and never _ever_ let go. Then maybe convince her to come and meet his parents. Then propose. Then buy a little surgery in Ealing. His parents would delay that by at least four days, potentially a week. He hadn't seen Sarah in thirty weeks, he was not making it thirty-one if he could help it!

The rates were guiding the ship through the harbour when Harry took his place on deck, smiling at the masses of people waving flags and cheering at their sailors return. Then everything goes so quickly. The rates secure the ship. The last few things are sorted out. Then packs are shouldered, and its time to leave. Before leaving, Harry sought out his good friend, to shake his hand and extract a promise to write. He knew that the young Nav had a young wife and new baby on the shore, so trying to get anything from him then would be impossible.

"You're lady friend going to be there Sully?" Brookes asked brightly, his face lit up at the mere prospect of seeing his new daughter in mere moments.

"I don't think so," Harry said sadly, "She didn't know I was coming in today. She'd not a wife, and I didn't have time to write her. My parents will be."

Brookes grimaced sympathetically, understanding the mixed emotions coursing through Harry at that moment.

"Come on then," He said, grinning. "Why don't I walk you out, we can see how long we can delay your parents arrival."

Then, side by side, comrades in arms, Harry and Carl walked down onto the jetty, the gold on their cuffs shining brightly. They were reaching the end, both desperately searching for their families when Harry heard a _very_ familiar shout.

"Harry!" It cried, relief, excitement and a triad of other emotions. Harry just about had time to drop his pack and open his arms in time for Sarah to launch herself into them.

To his embarrassment, Harry felt tears well up in his eyes as he pulled her tighter, breathing in the familiar smell, hands on familiar curves.

"Hello, Old Girl," He whispered in her ear, catching Carl lifting his daughter from her carriage for the first time. Harry decided he never _ever_ wanted to let go of Sarah again. He pulled back, keeping his hands on her waist, and smiling down to her. She had tears streaming down her face as well, the brightest smile he had ever seen.

"Hello," she whispered back. Then, despite not actually being married, Harry decided to sod social conventions, and leant down to kiss her. By god he had missed her.

"Harry!" He heard a shocked voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother call. He groaned, and leant his forehead against Sarah's, treasuring his last few seconds with her.

"Your parents?" She guessed with a cheeky smile. "What _will_ they think?"

"Well," Harry responded. "That depends on whether or not you agree to marry me."

Sarah's eyebrows rose so quickly he was sure that they teleported. Smiling, he let go of Sarah, put a hand in his pocket to pull out the ring he had kept there since he had been back thirty weeks ago, and went down to one knee. Sarah's mouth had fallen open.

It was rather amusing.

"Sarah-Jane Smith," he said seriously. "You have been my best friend for such a long old time now. We have been through some rather sticky situations, and I have to admit. The last few months, without having you in front of me making comments and getting me out of trouble have been some of the hardest ever. Now, I know you are a very staunch feminist, and I would never ask you to do something you would never want to do, but I don't suppose you could humour an old fashioned sailor, and agree to marry the old fellow?"

Sarah stood there, hands over her mouth in shock. But he could see her cheeks moving upward. She was smiling, that was a good thing, right? There was silence in the yard around them, as everyone waited for her answer.

"You would pick a time where you know I could never, _ever_ turn you down!" Sarah said eventually "Get up you silly fool and kiss me properly!"

"So, that's a yes then?" Harry said, slowly standing up, the biggest beam across his face.

"Yes, yes, yes and yes!" Sarah said, throwing her arms around his neck and bringing her lips crashing onto his as the crowd around them cheered.

"ahem."

Harry groaned.

"This is all very well and good," Harry's mother said primly, standing with her hands on her hips. Harry's father, simply a grey haired, more lined version of Harry, stood chuckling behind his wife. "But I do believe that you have yet to introduce us Harry dear.

"Of course mother," Harry sighed, smiling down at Sarah. Sarah raised her eyebrows before promptly turning to Harry's mother and offering her hand.

"Hello Mrs Sullivan," She said pleasantly. "My name is Sarah-jane Smith. I'm a journalist. I worked with your son for a while, and we have been such good friends ever since. And I truly understand that you want to see Harry after all his months at sea. But could I possibly have tonight, then you can have him for the rest of the week while I get back to work. Do we have a deal?"

Mrs Sullivan looked slightly gobsmacked, before regaining her composure and turning to Harry. "I like her!"

…..

**A/N I know this might be slightly out of character – but I can just imagine Harry proposing the second he got off the ship. I'm sorry, I am an old romantic – even if they haven't necessarily been 'dating' in the strictest sense of the world for ages. **

**Also, Sarah is rather forward, but that's why Harry loves her. **


	4. Chapter 4

"How about this one?" Harry suggested, handing Sarah a sheet of paper with the details of a small house out towards Essex. Sarah exchanged the sheet of paper for a cup of tea before sitting down next to him. In front of Harry, there was a neat fan of property pages alongside a newspaper. In front of Sarah, there was a reporter's notebook next to an A4 ringbound with a fountain pen.

Sarah quickly scanned the info before pulling a face and handing it back.

"Essex? Really Harry?" She said in amusement.

"Well, I'm struggling to find something we both like," he sighed, putting the page on the 'no' pile. Sarah picked up her notebook and began to flick through. "How's the article going?"

"Boringly," Sarah huffed irritated, placing the pad down. "I need something more interesting than the local housing bubble! But I suppose we need the money…"

Harry glanced down, biting back a comment. He knew she wasn't making a jab at him, she was just tired and stressed out and not thinking. It was nothing against him not having worked since he left the navy two months ago. Their finances, given how they were saving for a new home and a wedding, were a little stretched. Harry had moved in with the Smith's, given how he had been forced to give up his forces flat.

"You two," Lavinia barked as she entered, making the young couple at her table start. She saw Sarah's annoyed expression and wondered what they had been discussing now. "Get your coats, we're going somewhere."

"Aunt, we're busy!" Sarah snapped, scribbling words down, not looking at her aunt.

"Your work will still be there when you get back," Lavina insisted, "Come on, hop too it. Harry get the car keys. I have something I want to show you both."

Harry and Sarah shared a brief glance, before Harry shrugged, trying to hide a smile. Getting caught enjoying a Smith battle of wills wasn't something he was going to do twice.

"All right," Sarah huffed, dropping her pen, knowing she really wasn't getting anywhere with the (absolutely dreadfully dull) article she was working on.

Harry drove, Lavinia directing from the passenger seat, steadfastly refusing to answer any of her nieces questions as to where she was taking them.

Finally, they turned onto a road in Ealing, where Lavinia directed Harry to pull over.

"Aunt Lavinia, why are we here?" Sarah asked exasperatedly, getting out of the car and standing next to her fiancée.

"I wanted to show you something."

"Yes, we know that Lavinia, but what would that something be?" Harry asked, feeling a little more on Sarah's side than neutral now.

"You two are never going to find a house that you both love on paper," Lavinia started. "So I wanted you to see a house. That one over there. Number thirteen. It's a decent size, theres a surgery looking for staff just a street away. There is a big garden, an attic, a couple of bedrooms. It has everything you both wanted."

"You found us a house…" Sarah asked sceptically.

"Just go and look at it," Lavinia snapped, "then come out and be judgemental."

It was, simply put by Harry later on, a little like falling in love. The house needed work to make it their home, but by the time they'd reached the attic, both Sarah and Harry could see themselves living there. Could see themselves having dinner parties, and friends over, and children there.

Simply put, they were sold. That was their house.

Until they asked how much it was.

"So," Lavinia asked impatiently when they came out.

"It was lovely," Sarah said sadly, shoulders drooping and Harry's arm around her shoulder. "Perfect really."

"Then why do you look like you lost a pound and found sixpence?"

"It's more than we were hoping," Harry admitted. "We would have to get married before moving in of course, and we can't afford both."

"Good thing I already bought it then isn't it," Lavina replied with a raised eyebrow.

Sarah's head shot up. "I'm sorry?"

"I bought it for you, I had an agreement with the seller, I would buy, and if you two didn't like it, the sale would fall through. All the money you two have is for your wedding and setting up your home."

"But…" Harry faltered, stunned into silence. Beside him, Sarah was pulling and equally stunned expression.

"For heavens sake, think of it as a wedding present, for _finally_ getting married!"

….

_Miss Sarah-Jane Smith and Doctor Harry James Sullivan_

_Cordially invite you to_

"That sounds pretentious," Sarah argued instantly, "Cordially invite. We're only having your parents, my aunt, our unit friends and the Brookes. Can't we jus write them a note saying _rejoice! Harry and Sarah-Jane are finally getting married. Be at Ealing Registry at 11am on Sunday 4__th__ July. Dress nice, we'll be having photographs_."

"Sarah," Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. She had been in a particularly antagonistic mood all evening. "Why don't we do this tomorrow night instead?"

"Why, because you think I'll have miraculously adapted to your way of thinking?"

"I have no doubt you will still be stubbornly set on not having a traditional invitation, partly out of principle. However, I don't really care what the invitation says, so long as at the end of the day, you and I walk out of that hall married, and we can go home to Ealing."

Sarah pulled her cardigan around her more tightly and pulled her knees to her chest.

"I hate it when you use sentiment against me," she muttered, refusing to look at him. Harry half smiled and started clearing away the few wedding details they had decided upon.

Neither of them wanted a big wedding, just their unit friends, their family and the few non-military friends they had, going to a registry office then back to Bannerman Road for a reception/congratulations on your new home do. Most of it was organised already. Everyone already knew what the date was and where the wedding would be. The invitations were just a formality that Harry's parents were determined he keep. He was their only child, and they wanted sufficient documentation to prove he had married. Apparently an official invitation was part of this documentation.

"Sarah," Harry said softly, distracting her from where she was staring out of the darkened window opposite the couch. She hummed to show she was listening. "You know he'll be there if he can be."

Sarah looked down at her lap. "I just don't like not knowing if he _is_ going to turn up." She said quietly.

Harry frowned. She had made that sound like she didn't want him there.

"If he turns up, I'll be so angry with him for just _dropping_ me, and not letting me know he was safe… and its our wedding day Harry, I don't want to be anrgy with anybody…" She paused, accepting Harry's hand and shifting to rest her head on his shoulder. "But at the same time…"

"You want to know he _is _safe," Harry finished for her softly. He had never been as close to the Doctor of course, Harry was certain the man had a sort of affection for him that was reciprocated, but he and the Doctor had never been as close as the Doctor and Sarah had. "He'll be fine Old Girl, you know him. He's probably whizzing around getting into all sorts of scrapes, forcing some other poor soul to rescue him!"

He felt Sarah chuckle against his chest.

"It's not just that," She said, so quietly Harry had to tilt his head to listen. "I need to thank him. For showing me the stars and for dragging you along too. Even if it was only for a few days. I probably would never have given you the time of day otherwise…"

"Then I want to thank him too," Harry pressed a kiss to Sarah's hair, revelling in her brief, and rare moment of honest vulnerability.

"Harry…"

"Yes dear?"

"Do you think he'll be there?"

Harry paused, adjusting himself on the settee so he could cuddle Sarah closer. "Honestly, I think he will be there if he can. But it's not as if we have a way to message him… we just have to hope, I guess."

Harry wasn't sure what Sarah was afraid of most: the doctor turning up, or not being there at all.

…

In the end, they compromised. Lavinia had declared it would be good practice for their married life to compromise, to which Sarah had retorted that she could hardly know, Lavinia herself had never been married. Alistair had commented that the invitation ended up reflecting the two of them as a couple much more than any 'snobby traditionalist' invitation.

_Sarah-Jane Smith and Harry Sullivan_

_Finally invite you to their wedding,_

_To be held on Saturday 4__th__ July_

_At 11am at the Ealing Registry Office_

_To share their happiness (and nerves) amongst family and friends_.

Under which, Sarah had scrawled personal notes to Alistair, Yates and Benton telling them that if they weren't at her wedding, alien invasions would be nothing compared to her.

They all came.


	5. Chapter 5

Married life was… well… boring.

Oh, Sarah loved Harry, with a fierceness that surprised even herself, and she would lay down her life for him at a moments notice.

Him leaving the washing up in the sink however, would simply not do.

"HARRY!" She shouted up the stairs. "I AM NOT YOUR MAID, I AM YOUR WIFE. DO YOUR OWN BLOODY DISHES!"

Then, she stormed off, out to the garden, surprised at the vehemence in her own voice.

Their garden was a work in progress, one of the first things they had started before they had even married, and was nearly finished now, a year later. One of the things Sarah had insisted on, was a bench for them to curl up on, surrounded by leaves and flowers. The very next day, after she had come back from a story in Chiswick, she had found a new path had been set, and new flowerbeds had been freshly dug, and a wooden bench with a trellis had been set up facing the house.

Harry had apologised, but seeing as he wasn't in possession of a time machine, he wasn't able to make the vines grow any faster, and she would have to content herself with her imagination of what her grove would look like by the spring.

That night, they had picnicked under the stars. And in subsequent weeks, her 'grove' was always somewhere Sarah would go to think, whether it be an article she was having trouble writing, or why she was reacting so horribly to her husband leaving his dishes in the sink after a long day of surgery.

Sarah would be the first to admit that she was never good at the routine humdrum life that her peers had settled into. In fact, she had always thought she would never marry, that she'd die 'Miss Smith', romantically alone, with no children, but having lived a fulfilling, satisfying life. She was always adamant she wouldn't live like Hetty Moraker, who had married a banker straight from school and was now mother to his three children, looking harried and drawn because she knew her husband was having an affair with his secretary, but with no further qualifications and no work experience, would never be able to support herself and her children without him. Sarah would concede that Hetty was rather an extreme case, but the point still stood.

Her need to do things that weren't expected of her was only amplified by travelling with the Doctor. Any semblance of normal or routine had been thrown out of the window. And when she had come back, the normalcy of everything nearly killed her. The monotony. But she had Harry, she had Harry to bring her through.

Except, now _Harry_ was the normalcy, and their life together was the boring, routine existence she had decided wasn't for her the day she'd announced to her careers advisor she wanted to be journalist.

Whereas her life was once chasing each story from start to finish, picking the ones that excited and interested her… she now had responsibilities, bills to pay. The storied she accepted now had less to do with interest and more to do with meeting the demands of working full time for a paper. She had been given the slot at the paper mostly out of pity, she was sure. Her editor was an odious man, misogynistic and he _smelt_. Honestly, the man had obviously never even heard of personal hygiene, let alone deodorant. He firmly believed that married women should be at home. It was positively archaic! However, no-one could doubt how impressive Sarah's references were, and her article success rates spoke for themselves.

But there had to be an easier way to make money for the household without having to put up with '_darlings' _and '_be a doll and pop the kettle on Sarah'_s.

The monotony was driving her insane.

She was so caught up in her angry thoughts, that she didn't notice Harry until he was stood, toes up against the edge of 'her' grove, silently asking permission to enter the warzone.

Sarah took one look at his apprehensive face, and burst into tears from the built up frustration of sexism, boredom and monotony she now associated with being a wife. Within an instant, Harry was by her side, pulling her to his chest, and whispering soothing things into her hair.

Rather than sooth her however, they made Sarah feel even more guilty. She had been taking out her anger on Harry, sweet, dependable Harry who loved her unconditionally no matter how many time she yelled at him over menial tasks.

Overwhelmed with guilt, Sarah tried to push him away, to distance herself from him. She would only hurt him if he let her, and by all the universe, the one person she never wanted to hurt, was him!

"Stop it," He said firmly, gripping her tighter. "For better or for worse, that's what we said, isn't it? No matter how many times you tell me to put the toilet seat down, or to wash up my dishes, I love you!"

Sarah didn't realise she had said the last thoughts aloud.

"Come on now Sarah, tell me what's wrong," Harry pleaded, pushing her hair off her forehead. "Please love, I can't help you figure it out if you don't tell me. "

And that was what she loved about Harry, she yelled at him, then burst into tears, and whereas the bigoted prigs at work would smirk and say _that time of the month hey Sullivan?_, Harry knew there was something actually wrong.

"Don't you ever get _bored_?" She blurted out before she could stop herself, and once she started, she found she couldn't stop. "Bored of being treated like a fool, bored of being some of the few people on Earth who knows that there is more to this universe than tarmacking, replacing the school payground or new parking meters at the shop?"

"Bored of people coming in, asking me to diagnose them with illnesses they don't have, bored of knowing patients by name because they are there so often? Bored of writing the same prescription over and over again?" Harry offered, a weak smile.

And in that one smile, Sarah realised that Harry had been holding everything in, _for her_, in the same way she had tried her hardest to pretend everything was ok _for him. _

"I'm quitting the paper," She hiccupped.

"I'm glad," Harry sighed in relief, "You've not been yourself working for that oaf."

"No…" Sarah admitted. "I did try though, so hard, to be a good wife… to have a steady job so we could save, but…"

"Sarah," Harry said gently, "I didn't marry you in an attempt to control you. I married you because I love you. And I knew what I was signing up for. I love you, for you. I don't want you to pretend to be something you're not! I tried to explain that after your first story at the paper, but I don't think I put my point across very clearly, because you kept going back. My job at the surgery, while dull, is what I am trained for. And it pays well enough for you to freelance, like you always have."

"I hate the thought of you being unhappy though Harry!" Sarah sniffed, leaning into his chest, and feeling his arms wrap tightly around her. "You're bored as well!"

"Yes, but at the end of the day, I see you," He said simply. "And that makes up for anything more exciting I might do in the military or anywhere else for that matter."

"Harry, you old sap," she teased him, wiping away at her cheeks.

"What can I say," He chuckled, "I married a free spirit, who I can only hope to be nearly as bright as."

Sarah and Harry both paused for a few seconds, before bursting out laughing.

"I'm sorry, that was terrible," Harry admitted. Sarah readily agreed.

"But truly, Old Girl," Harry said quietly, "I knew who I was marrying, and you are a free spirit. You hate routine, that's why you became a journalist, to find the extraordinary in the ordinary. I never expected you to try your hand at housewifely pursuits. I'd rather you be happy, living a topsy turvy, unpredictable life, than you be miserable living a regular one."

"For a medic, you can sometimes be good with words," Sarah replied quietly with a smile, burrowing closer into his knitted jumper. "I'm sorry, I tried to be routine, to fit in with you. You like order, and for things to make sense. You're a doctor, you were part of the armed forces, you're rather old fashioned… and I thought you'd be happier if I fitted into your ideal more. I'm sorry."

"How about, we're both sorry, and I will continue leading my routine life, and you will keep leading your instinctive life that leads you to interesting places…and anytime you find something extraordinary, you give me a call?"

"Deal," Sarah smiled.

And suddenly, she felt _ever so_ foolish. She had been so focussed on what Harry might have expected that she lost sight of the fact that he fell in love with her enough to marry her prior to the expectations of marriage. If she had spoken to him sooner, maybe she wouldn't have felt so alone, and so frustrated.

"I love you," Sarah said softly to the darkness. She felt Harry press a kiss to her hair, and his murmured reply of the same.

Together, on the seat that Harry had bought because Sarah wanted a garden bench, Harry and Sarah watched the stars.


	6. Chapter 6

**1980**

It was too big.

The house. Their big house with lots of room.

It was too big.

Too big for just the two of them.

Sarah looked around the cluttered attic, where she had taken to hiding from her husband. Behind boxes of old files and books. Next to Sarah's crib. The crib that should have held their baby.

Sarah's hand ran gently across the bevelled wood, as she tried desperately not to picture sending a small child into the school playground, of arguments about bedtime, shrieking echoing through the halls. Too big, and too quiet. That was their house.

They had been married a year and a half when she began to suspect she was pregnant, that first time. That had been three years, and five miscarriages ago. Five babies she hadn't been able to keep safe.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she wondered how she could still have anything left to cry. They had been home from the hospital for a day and Harry hadn't stopped hovering. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sarah reached into the crib to remove a small leather notebook, one she had started two years and ten months ago.

By her side, were two items, her hospital wristband, and the small black and white picture of their baby. Sarah flicked through the book slowly, pausing over each date, until she had reached the next free page. In beautiful cursive, she recorded the date, before gluing in the two items. She couldn't bear to have them near her, but she couldn't bear to let any record of their baby, any of their babies, go. This was her compromise. Their unborn baby, exploring the universe with his brothers and sisters.

Putting the book back, Sarah just sat, and listened. Listened to the silence. To the absence of cries, and laughter.

Harry was sitting at the table, waiting patiently next to a pot of tea, when she came back downstairs.

He took one look at her face, at the red rimmed eyes and the tear tracks down her face, and said one thing.

"No more," he pleaded. "Please Sarah, I can't lose you. This time, this time was far too close."

Sarah sat down, took a shuddering breath, and thought about how she didn't need a child to fulfil her life. Even though she couldn't help feeling like she had failed.

"No more," she agreed quietly.

…..

**1981**

"I know it isn't Metabilis three, or, I don't know, that Ark that you got zapped on," Harry grinned, dropping his hat onto his head and hoisting their suitcases into the car, "But it's a holiday. No story, no hypochondriac patients. Just you, and me, on holiday."

"Like a normal couple?" Sarah teased with a smile. Harry was pleased to see her smile again, she had been so withdrawn, thinking she had failed, for months now, and was only now, as summer rolled around starting to be her old self again. It was a relief to Harry, to have her back. He had been terrified he would lose her, that she would withdraw into herself so deeply, he wouldn't be able to bring her back like he did after the Doctor left.

"Why would we want to be normal, Old Thing," Harry called back jovially, leaping forward to hold the door open for his wife as Sarah finished locking up the door. Sarah shook her head fondly, but didn't comment, as she slipped into the front seat. Harry quickly walked around the car and jumped in.

After chatting about bills, whether Harry had cancelled the milk and Sarah had cancelled the paper, and who had the fun of buying Lavinia's shopping that week, Sarah suddenly asked:

"Why Britannia?"

"Why not?" Harry asked, hoping she would leave it at that. Sarah raised a knowing eyebrow at him. "Ok, ok. We've both been to Scotland with the Doctor, and I spent far too much time along the south coast. And Ireland is currently a no British zone… so, I wanted to take you somewhere new, where there wouldn't be any memories. So, we could make our own. And it's so terribly easy to get to France on the ferry now."

Sarah smiled softly at him, her head to one side. Every now and then it would hit her how much she loved this man.

"Well," She declared, clapping her hands in excitement, "I can't wait!"

When they stopped off for a night in Paris on the way, Sarah wondered why she wasn't more surprised at Harry's little plan. Yes, she really did love him.

…

"I've accepted a job at Whitehall," Alistair announced at the end of dinner. Sarah stopped, her wine glass halfway to her lips. Alistair smirked at her speechlessness. Sarah's mouth formed words, but no words came out.

"The last time I had you speechless Miss Smith, I told you I was retiring," he said drily.

"Well," Sarah started, replacing her glass. "I just, can't imagine you not being busy all day, I suppose…"

"Well, time for a change," Alistair coughed.

"How did Liz take it?" Sarah asked curiously. She loved Alistair's fiery companion, enjoying feminist debates and ganging up on the menfolk.

"As you are likely picturing," Alistair admitted. "But ended up telling me I had to do whatever made me happy. So, I get to see Liz, and Katie more. Perfect choice. My next monumental challenge is to convince Fiona to move to London."

"I was about to ask how that would affect your relocation to be closer to Katie," Sarah phrased carefully. The last thing she wanted was for two of her finest friends to move far away from London. But Alistair and a Whitehall job just didn't seem to mesh in her head properly/

"No," Alistair said, "Liz and I will be finding a fix it house for me to play with on the edge of London, and I will likely end p in a paper pushing job. But, it's time to start anew I think. Hopefully Katie will be able to visit a lot more. And the schools here in London are much better than the ones in Cornwall, even Fiona admits that."

"Well, congratulations, I know you haven't really been enjoying your retirement all that much," Sarah raised her glass with a smile.

"How are you and Sullivan getting along, I'm sorry he wasn't able to make it for lunch," Alistair asked.

"No, he's been picking up extra shifts now that they've lost another doctor," Sarah sighed, "I feel like we hardly see each other, and if we do, its ships in the night. Still, they have a junior doctor starting soon, should take some of the pressure off hopefully. A Timothy Turner, newly graduated. And all my projects will be London centred, no more hopping off to Wales after a lead! I just miss him."

"Well, I'm sure everything will work out," Alistair said confidently, paying the bill before Sarah could reach for her purse. "No buts Mrs Sullivan, you can pay next time."

Sarah huffed disbelievingly, but years of friendship stopped her from putting up more than a superficial fight. She would, indeed, pay the next one. She stood up to put her coat on, her head suddenly swimming. Woozy, she put a hand out to steady herself, connecting with the solid wood of the table.

"Are you alright Sarah?" Alistair's voice cut through the haze worriedly. A glass of water was pushed into her hand.

"Yes, yes," Sarah brushed it off quickly, feeling the world turn back into focus again. "Must have stood up too quickly."

Alistair didn't look like he believed her, and Sarah didn't believe herself. She would be stopping by the pharmacy to pick up a home pregnancy test on the way back.

….

Harry Sullivan had had a rather marvellous day. The young doctor Turner had been idealistic and a breath of fresh air. He had been bought up the son of the only GP in a poverty stricken West End area so he understood the work, and he enjoyed it. He often mentioned his nurse mother as well. He had been polite, and refreshing to work with. Harry was very much looking forward to mentoring this young man into becoming a marvellous doctor.

And Sarah had been to lunch with Alistair, so he was at least expecting humming as he walked through the door, not the oppressive silence that greeted him.

"Sarah?" he called out. When he didn't hear a response, he looked through each room of the house. He found her in their bedroom, curled up on the bed, her boots still on with a pillow clutched to her abdomen. "Hello Old Thing." He said quietly, moving softly into the room to sit next to her, rubbing her lower back gently. "Do you want me to get you an aspirin? Or a hot water bottle?"

"I don't need them," Sarah said hoarsely, shifting so she was half on her back and facing Harry. "Harry, I'm late again."

Harry closed his eyes.

"And the others?" he asked quietly, continuing his ministrations on her lower back.

"Was ill yesterday, day before and the day before that," She listed, "And when I stood up earlier, I was instantly dizzy. I picked up a home test. Its in the bathroom, but I can't bring myself to look."

Harry nodded, and leant forward to press a kiss to his wife's head.

"Hey," he said gently, "If it's positive, we'll work through it, like we have before."

Then he stood up, and went to check the pregnancy test.

Positive.

Harry paused in the bathroom, allowing his eyes to fill up briefly as he pictured Sarah in their bed with an infant, of a little girl that looked like Sarah, but with a love of science, or a little boy, with his hair and her eyes. He hoped that this one would stick. More than anything. He didn't want to see her break again.

"We'll have to go to the surgery tomorrow, so we can run a blood test," Harry said softly, re-entering the room.

"I hate that I keep hoping," Sarah sobbed, through tightly closed eyes. "Every time, I pray that this one, this one will stick. How can I love something that I never really had? How can it hurt so much to lose it?"

"We will do everything we possibly can Sarah," Harry said gently, smoothing her hair back to press another kiss to her forehead. "And whatever happens, we have each other Sarah, and all I need is you."

Sarah had smiled at him, smiled through the tears as they both tried not to hope too desperately for something that might never happen.

…

**1981**

She was perfect.

Big brown eyes, and already with an abundance of brown hair to match. She had ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. She was perfect.

Harry had seen many babies before, but seeing Sarah propped up by pillows, their baby in her arms, he decided that he might possibly be the happiest he had ever been before.

"Allison Lauren Smith-Sullivan," was announced in the papers the next day, "Born 23rd April 1981 to parents Sarah-Jane Smith-Sullivan and Harry Sullivan."

She was their little miracle.

**A/N I wasn't going to give them a baby, but I couldn't help it! 3 Also, the conversation Alistair is referencing is one he has with Liz Shaw in my other story Reasons for Retirement, focussing on those two. **

**Also, Kudos to whoever spots the other BBC reference in here first! :p **


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